


A Midsummer Night's Dance (AKA Glorfindel's inteligence is questioned)

by LearnToShareFeanor



Series: Fools in Love [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And no patience for idiots, Ecthelion is fine, Erestor has low self esteem, Glorfindel is an idiot, Happy Ending, M/M, loosely based on A Midsummer Night's Dream, so I heard you wanted some angst, until you touch his baby brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnToShareFeanor/pseuds/LearnToShareFeanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few days before the annual Midsummer Eve's celebration, Glorfindel decides to ask the elf of his dreams to be his date. Only, sometimes his mouth runs away from him, and he's not sure whether or not Ecthelion's going to kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How NOT to ask your crush on a date

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know my stories so far have been relatively short, but I’m trying to get back into writing. For this one, I’ve set myself a 1000 word minimum, not counting the note. “Speaking”, ‘thoughts’  
> Translation: Toron- brother in Quenya  
> Fúmë- sleep or sleepy (Parf Edhellen dictionary)  
> I don't own LOTR. If I did, it wouldn't be as awesome, and there would be a ton of books, dedicated to E/G.

 

The raven haired elf forced himself to breath in, count to ten, and breathe out. After realizing his problem wasn’t going away, and in fact was now chatting about the fact that Lord Rog's sister had, apparently, threatened her brother with severe pain if he didn't settle down, he did it again before setting aside his quill. “Glorfindel, might I ask what I can assist you with this afternoon?”

            Glorfindel, lord of the house of the Golden Flower, was famous throughout Gondolin for his beauty and prowess with the sword. He was also rather infamous for his ability to get carried away with any topic and speak for hours. “I was just thinking, Erestor, of the celebration at the end of this month. Lord Rog’s niece informed my sister who told me that you aren’t going!”

            ‘ _Oh’,_ thought Erestor, ‘ _if he wasn’t so pretty he’d be dead by now.’_ “One should not listen to idle gossip.” He stated, not unkindly. “One never knows when a person might be misinformed. In this rare case, however, they are correct. I shall not be in attendance.”

            Glorfindel seemed a bit put out, and Erestor privately thought the chiding had been good for him. It also led to the most adorable pout- ‘ _no, not going there.’_ Suddenly, he brightened. “If you have not been asked yet, I would be all right with taking you.” It seemed to the golden elf that it was the only valid reason not to go to this celebration.

            That comment, though, tickled at him unpleasantly. “If you must know, my lord,” he began, using Glorfindel’s title, “I have already been asked by both lord Rog himself and lord Salgant. I have refused them both and do not intend to attend.” He never would have agreed to Salgant’s invitation whether he wanted to go or not, but the golden oaf didn’t need to know that.

            Glorfindel stepped back a little in his approach, sensing that he’d crossed some line. “I did not mean any offence at all, lord Erestor.” He said consolingly. Airheaded some might call him, but there wasn’t a cruel or mean bone in his body. “I simply thought you might lack a date- after all, you are rather unapproachable.” He laughed at his own jest, but the laughter died quickly at the look in Erestor’s eyes.

            ‘ _It is one thing to be rude,’_ Erestor thought to himself as he rose from his desk, ‘ _but this is unacceptable.’_ Few knew that the silver-eyed elf often feared himself lacking- his brother and mother were the only two on these shores who did, that he himself knew of at least. When he gazed into his mirror in the morning, he did not see hair as black as a raven’s wing, shining like onyx, straight and beautiful. Rather he saw yet another dark haired elf, painfully common. His shining mithril eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, seemed more like the granite their walls were made of than anything beautiful. His nose jutted out too far, and he had not yet grown into his body, so it seemed to him that he was all elbows and knees, stretched out. “Lord Glorfindel,” he stated darkly, “if you are quite finished with your laughter at my expense, I have other things to do.” Not waiting for an answer, he folded the letter he’d been working on and left his family’s library.

            Glorfindel, for his part, was confused and hurt in equal parts. He’d just asked his friend’s little brother to a dance, and somehow he’d put his foot in his mouth, just as he always did with Erestor. “Why can I never say anything right to him?” He asked mournfully. The water clock on the desk held no answer for him.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Ecthelion hummed cheerfully as he entered their spacious home, greeting a passing servant pleasantly before searching around for his brother. Just as he and Glorfindel had planned, he’d made himself conveniently absent so that the golden haired elf could ask out his brother without any awkwardness, and he had good faith that their plan was successful. Suddenly, he nearly ran into his brother, whose gray eyes were swimming with tears. ‘ _What in Yavanna’s name happened?’_ , he wondered.“Erestor? Toron, what’s wrong?”

            Erestor spun around. “What’s wrong? That idiot friend of yours had the nerve to interrupt me for the sake of idle gossip, told me he’d take me to a dance out of _pity_ , as if I wasn’t capable of finding a date on my own, and then told me that I wasn’t attractive enough to get one!” He stormed up the stairs and shut his door firmly. He’d finish drafting his essay for master Fúmë on his private desk.

            It had to be stated that Ecthelion loved Glorfindel, and he often felt they were as close as brothers. However, the bond to his blood brother was quite a bit thicker, so it was in the capacity of ‘enraged older brother’ rather than ‘close friend’ that he confronted Glorfindel. He found the fair haired elf just leaving the library, and the blonde seemed to perk up, of all things, at the sight of him. “Thel!” He exclaimed happily. “Have you seen Erestor? He ran off just a moment ago-“

            “Have I _seen_ Erestor? Yes, Glorfindel lord of the absolute fools, I have seen him! If you had any sense in that head of yours, you might leave before I have you removed!” It was one thing to have a spat between friends that had went too far, but quite another to have the manservants and guards escort someone from one’s home. “What in the name of Nessa did you say to him?”

            Glorfindel’s mouth moved open and closed for a moment before he managed an answer. “What? I didn’t do anything, I just asked him out, and then he refused so I asked him again, and he stormed out for no reason!”

            Ecthelion pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before grasping Glorfindel’s forearm, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary, and pulled him into the library, slamming the carven oak double doors shut behind him. “Tell me what you told my baby brother- _exactly_ what you told him.”, commanded Ecthelion.

            Glorfindel obeyed, and Ecthelion had to pray for Nienna’s patience several times to avoid another kinslaying.


	2. Chapter 2: In which Erestor bares his heart and plots.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: In which Erestor bares his heart and plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Cookies for whoever notices the Courage the Cowardly Dog reference!  
> Ellon: male elf  
> OMG you reviewers make my day! Seriously! This chappie is where we get all the angst. And a plot. You know, this was originally going to be the last chapter, and then the muses were just like 'lol screw you', and there will be at least one more.
> 
> *update: corrected a few issues

 

                A few minutes later, Ecthelion led Glorfindel to the door and hit the back of his head once more for good measure. “I’ll ask him if he’s willing to go out with you. That’s it though, anything else you’ll talk to him about- after the midsummer celebration!”

                Glorfindel wasn’t exactly happy about this, but gave his thanks whilst rubbing his head. The lord of the House of the Silver Fountain shut the door firmly and took a deep breath before heading up the stairs. _‘The things I do for love.’_

                Erestor heard a light rapping at his door and sighed, looking at the open window wistfully. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his work with Glorfindel’s rather disappointing comments in his head. If he was being honest with himself, he was more than slightly attracted to the burly blonde. At first he was just his brother’s friend, but then, well, he became Fin- except when he was irritating, of course. Just when he thought he might be getting somewhere with him, the oaf said he would be _all right_ with taking him. Not, ‘I’d love it if you’d come with me as my date, Erestor’, or ‘I’d be terribly bored without you’, or even a simple ‘Erestor, will you come with me?’ No. Instead it was ‘well, my friend’s ugly, antisocial little brother can’t get a date. Poor thing, might as well do something nice for Thel.’ Of course, he hadn’t stated it that way, but he hadn’t exactly hidden it. _Unapproachable._

                He straightened his desk, wiped away a few stray tears, and managed a somewhat friendly “Enter, please”.

                Ecthelion shut the door behind himself and sat down on the comfortable bed near the desk chair his brother was lounging in. “I talked to Glorfindel.” He stated simply, and Erestor turned his face away.

                “That’s nice. I take it he’s going with whomever he planned to bring before he decided that he would deign to ask me?” Erestor usually tried to make excuses for Glorfindel’s obnoxious behavior, but it had gotten to be too much lately, and today had been the straw on the proverbial camel’s back.

                He heard his older brother huff. “You know, he didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong. I’ll agree, though, he really stepped in it this time.”

                Erestor chuckled dryly and allowed his dark hair to form a veil from his brother’s gaze. Now his brother- he was an attractive ellon. He’d never had any lack of suitors, he could speak in front of others without fear, and he didn’t care what anyone said about him. Erestor wished he was more like that. “Erestor, he didn’t mean to hurt you.” Ecthelion spoke in a soft tone, as if speaking to a crying child or wounded animal. The fact was not lost on Erestor, and he tensed.

                “I looked at him, really looked at him after I made sure he knew he’d done wrong. He looked back at me and just started _laughing,_ Thel.” He looked at his brother, hurt obvious in his gaze. “He did what he always did. Whenever you or your friends do something stupid, he laughs it off. When you or Rog, or anyone else even hints that he’s gone too far, he stops. He-“ The darkling elf stopped there for a moment, unsure of what to say. “He tells you you’re beautiful all the time, you know. Tells everyone exactly what he thinks of them.” He smiled at that for a moment before continuing. “When I do something stupid, he attracts attention to it and won’t stop talking about it. When he goes too far on me, even when I yell at him, he just keeps going.” He felt his voice crack and hated it. “He- he never calls me beautiful or handsome, or anything like that. Won’t even admit that I can best him in an argument. He just calls me ‘unapproachable’, or ‘anti-social’, or, and this is my favorite, ‘cheerless crow.”

                Erestor put his head in his hands and felt his brother’s hand moving across his back as Thel leaned over him. Finally, he finished with “I am so tired of being second best to him. I want to be first or not at all, and that will never happen.” Thel crushed him in his arms, and he didn’t object to the embrace.

 After the terror in Valinor, the Grinding Ice, the paranoia of sleeping in a field and knowing something could come at any time, they’d finally had somewhere _safe._ At 83, Erestor was still 2 years short of his majority, and sometimes Ecthelion forgot that his little brother, who had helped protect them all from wolves and wargs and worse, was, in fact, a child. “Perhaps it is time to show him what he is missing, yes? You know you want to go, even if you state the obvious.”

Erestor nodded in his brother’s arms. “But I’ll see him there, and-“ At this, his brother interrupted him. “And if you see him, you will have a date on your arm and a perfect excuse not to talk to him.”

Erestor nodded again and then smiled viciously. “Besides you, there will be only two other single male elves to go with.” Erestor had a plan, and Ecthelion smiled, catching on. _This_ was the brother he knew and loved.

                Without warning, Erestor slithered from the warm embrace and dried his face. “Excuse me, I have to get dressed.” Ecthelion chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for Glorfindel. Almost.”

                Later that afternoon, Erestor headed to the Great Market, ostensibly for a new set of robes for the celebration. There, he ran into lord Rog, as he knew he would. Rog was painfully predictable sometimes. Rog brightened at seeing him, and he put on his best surprised face. “My lord, how odd to see you here! I was under the impression you favored only the weapon smiths.”

                Rog grinned. “Ah, I do care for them indeed, but my sister is forcing me out of my usual bounds.” The older elf brushed a loose braid behind one pointed ear, and Erestor decided that he was rather attractive as well- even if he wasn’t the object of his desire. “What brings you here, lord Erestor?”

                Erestor smiled. “Well, I was just surprised by the news; the scribe master has given everyone the night off, so I will be free to enjoy myself at the celebration. I cannot go in my scribe’s robes, of course.” Now that he’d said it, he realized that it was indeed true. He would need a tailored set of fine robes to do his house justice. And now, the hard part. “Tell me, have you found yourself a new partner yet?”

                The burly warrior bounced on his feet in a way that reminded Erestor of an overexcited puppy. “No, no. I haven’t. I’d be honored if you’d be mine for the night.” He stated.

                Erestor was rather shocked at his own flush, and the realization that he might just enjoy Rog’s company more than he thought. “I think I would enjoy that as well.” He stated simply, earning a beam that put Anor to shame.

                The burly warrior then frowned, confusing the darkling elf. “What about Glorfindel? He was telling all of us down at the training fields that he was going to ask you today.”

                The question had come without warning, and he was unable to hide the flash of hurt. “O-oh. Well, he did. Ask me, that is- however, he did it in the most insulting and hurtful manner I could imagine, and I’d much rather enjoy myself than be dragged down by his- oh, I can’t think of a foul enough word.”

                Rog did it for him. “Foolish? Idiotic? Smellier than Morgoth’s balls, and twice as useless?” He glanced up at the warrior, a smile slowly coming back. “He certainly is all of them to let a catch like you by, if you’ll excuse the forwardness.”

                Erestor cleared his throat. “I rather like the last one. And after today, your forwardness and honesty is quite refreshing.” The part about his being a ‘catch’ certainly wasn’t honest of Rog, but he’d let it go for now.

                “I aim to please, my lord.”


	3. The dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Darkness must pass, a new day will come, and when the sun shines, it will shine the clearer."- J.R.R Tolkein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: From now on, I’m putting on my heavy metal to write. The floodgates have opened! 2 chapters in one day, can you believe it? I only held off on chapter 2 because it was way too early when I finished it, and I needed to proofread.  
> Again with the muses! This was going to be the last chapter, and then Rog the lord of Warfare said “b!*&h please”. Does anyone else get a slightly Scottish or Irish vibe from him? “speaking”, ‘thoughts’, emphasis  
> P.S., I’m glad that I did, and you should be too. The shear number of puns was as terrifying as Silence of the Lambs. *ba dum tsh*  
> Milui: Kind, gentle

                By the time Rog had been able to escape his sister (who was inordinately pleased that he’d gotten a date, and with the handsome Erestor of all people), visit the weapon smiths as was his wont, and the tailors for himself, he had worked himself into a fine mood. Well, perhaps ‘fine’ wasn’t the word for it.

                He was well aware of his reputation. Handsome, strong, and about as dumb as one of the posts he liked to use his sword on. Painfully honest, he had to admit that there might be some truth to that. However, he was also loyal to a fault, a fierce protector to those who needed it, a rock to cling to when the waves came to claim their due. He headed down to the practice field with rage in his heart, and the rumors preceded him.

                “Oh, isn’t that lord Rog? He looks angry.”

                “Hush! ‘Tis rude to gossip. But he is always angry, and I heard the elf he sought to court refused him.”

                “No! Did I not tell you? Just a moment ago the young lord Erestor agreed to him.”  
                “Really? Then why is he so upset?”

                “My brother heard lord Erestor state that lord Glorfindel had given him great insult.”

                A gasp, and then the rumors changed. “There is to be a fight at the training fields!”

                “There is always a fight down there. I heard some minstrels will be performing in the Lesser Market.”

                “Yes, but it is to be between lord Rog and lord Glorfindel!”

                “Minstrels perform all the time, I suppose.”

                By the time he had reached the fields, it seemed all of Gondolin knew his purpose. Including Glorfindel, who was standing by the weapon racks, no trace of his usual good humor. “Glorfindel, you scoundrel, let us have a match, you and I.” He bellowed, unsheathing his two-handed greatsword. Glorfindel only nodded, selecting the sword he usually favored, a sharp longsword, and his shield. It did not do to fight Rog with his own weapon, as only a dwarf with a battle-ax might best him.

                Their blades were dulled quickly by one of the smiths, as none wanted another kinslaying. Soon, Rog’s greatsword came down and clashed with Glorfindel’s shield. Glorfindel’s own sword came up under his shield arm and slammed into Rog’s chest plate, driving him back further. A heavy arm drove down into his shoulder and he rammed his shield into the dark-haired elf’s gut. On and on they fought until a firm voice called a halt, much to the disappointment of the onlookers. They split with angry glares, and Rog stalked off, dissatisfied with the turn of events.

                “Glorfindel, what were you thinking, fighting Rog of all people?”Ecthelion demanded, fighting the urge to hit the blonde elf again.

                The golden elf shook his fair head. “I am sick and tired of all and sundry assuming I am in the wrong because your brother cannot bite his tongue about a simple mistake.” He snapped angrily.

                This time Ecthelion did hit him, and hoped to whatever Vala were listening that the swelling around his eye did not go down soon.

                Tonight was the night of the Midsummer’s eve celebration and tensions were high between Ecthelion and Glorfindel. Erestor, for his part, had decided to enjoy his evening, and in his robes of midnight blue with silver swirls and silver circlet set with stones of polished blue topaz, made a picture in contrasts with the handsome lord Rog in his crimson and gold.

                Ecthelion made a showing, the fair lady Milui upon his arm, and Glorfindel tried very hard not to glare at them. It had been almost two weeks since the argument with Erestor, fight with Rog, and beating from his friend, and he had had time to think of his actions. Perhaps, he thought, his father had been right from the beginning- ‘your friends brother? That’s only asking for trouble.’ How could he help it? Erestor was the moon to his sun, the quiet contemplation to his own brash nature, the singularly most beautiful star in the night sky. Glorfindel huffed in irritation. ‘ _Why can I never say that?’_ He wondered, angry at himself. Every time he spoke to Erestor, whenever he was in speaking distance, words came out without his permission or approval, and nothing ever came out right.

                He had several chances to speak with him, but decided to keep his mouth shut for once. Maybe that was the trick to it- after all, Erestor seemed to glance at him more often than usual, and he spied Ecthelion glancing at him worriedly more than once. Ordinarily, he enjoyed these events, but quickly he slipped out of the massive hall and into the garden. The blonde elf debated staying for a while, just to fend off the gossips, but then decided to leave. This night he chose to ignore them.

                Erestor watched him go over Rog’s shoulder and debated following him. His brother caught his gaze and grasped his hand, asking for a moment alone. The dark haired elf followed his brother in some confusion until they were sequestered in a small alcove. “You need to stop looking at Glorfindel, toron. He will bring nothing but trouble.”

                Erestor nodded his head in reluctant agreement. “I know, but he-“

                “Erestor, _no._ I am tired of the way he treats you. I will happily admit that I was in the wrong about allowing him to become close to you, and I will not allow you to start chasing after him.”

                The younger elf gave his brother a look of disbelief. “ _Allow_ him? _Allow_ me? Thel, I’m old enough to make my own choices! “

                Ecthelion huffed. “You haven’t even hit your majority yet. Back in Valinor, you would not have been allowed to even speak with him until your first century!”

                Irritated, Erestor jerked his arm back from his brothers’ hand. “But we’re not back in Valinor, are we? You-“At this, he shoved an accusing finger into his brothers’ chest and continued, “You decided, without anyone’s agreement that our entire family would leave! Mother and I had to follow you, and we went through trials innumerable to get you here. And then you practically force me to talk to Glorfindel!”

                Ecthelion narrowed his eyes angrily. “You never had to come. You had every chance to stay.”

                At this, Erestor sighed, his anger subsiding. “Yes. I could stay, homeless and alone while my entire family went on a suicide mission. Of course, I could have stayed.” Erestor left as well, through the closest exit. It just so happened that it was the one that led to the gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last- for now!


	4. A Midsummer Night's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this is the last chapter in A Midsummer Eve’s Dance. For all of you who have stayed with the story and enjoyed it, thank you! Don’t you just love those one-shots that end up being multi chapters? I’m probably going to make this just part of the longer series of E/G. 
> 
> Let me know if you'd like a, possibly multi chapter fic, of Glorfindel trying to court Erestor in the comments! Also, who actually got the Courage the Cowardly Dog reference?

 

                Erestor exited the crowded hall as quickly as possible, hoping to escape notice. Alas, though his eyes had rarely strayed from Glorfindel throughout the night, he hadn’t marked the door that the object of his affections had left. And so it was that, when Glorfindel turned at a sudden noise prior to leaving, their gazes met and Glorfindel seemed to freeze, much as a bird when trapped by the gaze of a snake.

                If he’d been asked, Erestor could not have informed anyone of how long they stood there, each desperate for something and terrified of what the other could want. For the first time, it was Glorfindel who sought to run away, moving one foot back, and that galvanized Erestor into speaking. “Wait! Please- I’ve been wanting to speak with you.”

                The golden lord wavered for a moment before finally moving closer until they no longer needed to speak loudly. Once there, Erestor’s words, always so smooth and swift, deserted him for a moment. “Thank you.” He breathed, instead. Swallowing, he looked up into the face he adored so much. “I’m sorry, Glorfindel.”

                The blonde looked at him in confusion. “Sorry?” He huffed out a small, bitter laugh. “No, Erestor, I am the one who’s sorry.” Glorfindel met his eyes again, asking a question to which Erestor had no answer. “No matter how hard I try, I can never-“ At this, he broke off, shifting back minutely.

                The younger elf reached up and brushed long fingers against the sleeves of the blonde’s tunic. “You can never what, Fin?”

                Glorfindel seemed to find that pale hand immensely interesting. “I can never say what I want to tell you.” The answer was soft, barely a whisper. “I always seem to ruin everything.”

                Erestor could not deny the latter. “What if you just told me, right now? You seem to be more coherent than usual.” He added a nervous smile and was relieved when the corners of those rosy lips turned upward at the reappearance of his usual snark.

                The ever brave lord of the house of the Golden Flower took a few deep breaths, and when he intertwined their fingers, he realized that his hands were clammy. Suddenly, Erestor had a thought. _‘Is he as terrified as I am?’_ He swallowed and continued on his original task. The blonde would tell him or he wouldn’t. “I do not wish to lose what friendship we have over a petty squabble, Glorfindel.” He told him quite honestly. “But I am tired of these games we play. They have grown too painful.”

                _‘Friendship,’_ Glorfindel thought, ‘ _this is all we are and all we will ever be_ ’. He took another deep breath and met Erestor’s eyes once more. _‘Not this time. Not if I can help it.’_ “If you swear, here and now, that we will always have this at least, I will speak my heart.” His shoulders shifted, an unconscious admission of fear. “It won’t be the poetry you so love, but it will be true.”

                “You terrify me with your demand. I trust you, though, and I give you my word. Whatever else may happen, we will still be friends.”

                Some part of Glorfindel had hoped, desperately, that Erestor might refuse. If he had said no, he could still love him from a distance- no. Not now. He released Erestor’s hands and shifted again before deciding to get the difficult part over with.

                “You,” he managed out, hating the slight crack in his voice, “you are the moon to my sun. You rival the most beautiful star in the night sky. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and next to your grace, your kindness, and the way you always seem to know what to do, I feel absolutely inadequate.” Now that he had started, it seemed he could not stop. “You fill holes and stitch closed wounds I never knew I had, and all I can seem to do is make you miserable. I would rather walk the grinding ice for a decade with you than spend eternity in paradise without you.”Oh no, he was about to mess up, he just knew it. “I love you.” Finally, he managed to bite his tongue and look- anywhere, everywhere, but Erestor’s face.

                Erestor felt slightly faint and wondered if Maeglin had spiked the wine. It was just the sort of mischief he would get up to while his uncle, the king, was busy. Shakily, he wrapped both arms around a strong neck and pulled Glorfindel into an embrace.

                Glorfindel didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this- not that he was complaining, of course. “I know the high tongue,” Erestor spoke into his neck,” Valinorian, and even some Sindarin. But there are not words enough to say how much I love you.” The blonde elf was still against him for just a moment. Then, Erestor found himself crushed to the larger elf, not that he minded. What he did mind was the sudden and almost hysterical laughter that bubbled up from Glorfindel.

                “A dance!” He laughed. “Oh how fitting, we’ve been dancing around this for far too long.” Erestor grinned, grasping the hilarity of the situation, and released peals of bright laughter as well, only to be silenced by Glorfindel’s lips upon his. Still, they chuckled and giggled in between chaste, gentle kisses, and all was right in their world.

                Ecthelion, however, was not aware of what had occurred. What he saw, when he followed his brother outside after a few moments to call himself, was Glorfindel nearly crushing his younger brother, forcing his lips upon the dark haired elfs’, and Erestor’s hands on his chest, ostensibly trying to push him away.

                Glorfindel felt a sudden tug on his collar, and he never saw the nose-breaking punch coming. Erestor cried out in shock, and that was more than enough to make the blonde throw a blind punch into the attacker’s gut. “Thel! Stop! Fin, you’re only encouraging him, come here.” Neither of the older elves were listening, and so Erestor pulled a move he’d seen the old scribe-master pull once.

                Both fighters were quickly yelping in pain as Erestor pinched their ears and _twisted._ Quickly, both of them focused on ending the pain in one of the most sensitive parts of their bodies, and the fight stopped as quickly as it began.

                “Ecthelion, what in sweet Nienna’s name is this?” Ecthelion simply grunted as he tried to catch his breath. He could now guess the reason that Glorfindel’s only regular sparring partner was Rog, lord of Wrath and Warfare. He stared daggers into the blonde as he tipped his head back, attempting to stop the bleeding.

                Frustrated at the lack of answer, he dug his little finger into a place just under his brother’s left arm that he knew from personal experience hurt just as badly as a kick to the side. Predictably, his brother elbowed him with a loud “ouch!” Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he quickly stepped in between Glorfindel and his brother. “I,” Ecthelion barked, “am defending your honor! What are you doing out here with _him?”_

_“_ Thel, I can defend myself thank you very much. And we’re no longer fighting.” Glorfindel found the confused expression on his old friend’s face hilarious and couldn’t stop himself from laughing while wincing through the pain in his nose.

                “This looks terrible, doesn’t it?”

                One moment they were at one another’s throats and then…this. Ecthelion, for his part, had no clue what to make of it. “A bit, yes. What- why- but how did- and you- huh?” The elder raven haired elf rolled his eyes to the sky and sat down on a bench. “Erestor, what did you do this time?”

                Erestor made a noise of indignation. “Why do you always assume that I am the tricky one?”

                “We are speaking about Glorfindel, here.”

                “Oh. Well, I suppose I would be the intelligent one here.”

                “Unquestionably. What, exactly happened?”

                Glorfindel blinked and shook his head before moving to sit at the bench beside him. “Why can’t I be the clever one?” He asked, a little petulantly. He instantly regretted it as his friend pinned him with that piercing stare.

                “Glorfindel.”  Ecthelion began, deceptively soft, “Are you insinuating that you seduced my baby brother?”

                “Uhh- no?”

                Erestor cleared his throat, as much to stop the new argument from beginning as to gain their attention. “Thel? I apologized, he apologized, I am fairly sure we are together now,” At this, the blonde grinned boyishly and a little dreamily. Ecthelion’s punch made sure he knew he was awake, but he still was not quite sure if he was having a very pleasant delusion or not. “And we are fine now. No need to worry.”

                Ecthelion made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I- don’t understand. How came this to be?”

                Voices echoed from the hall. It seemed the party was breaking up. “Look, I’m sure neither of you want to be caught having fought on the king’s property.” Both older elves tensed at that, and Glorfindel made to rise. “Let us go home, Thel. Fin, you come as well. I promise I will tell you everything.”

                The three escaped silently, as only elves can do, and so completely missed the pair enjoying the show. Lord Rog had a rather horrified look upon his face, while lady Milui was smiling triumphantly. Suddenly, she spun to face him. “I told you- by the end of the night. Pay up!”

                Rog made a disappointed noise and shook his head before depositing a small purse of coins in her outstretched hand. “I thought it would take them at least until sun up!” He stated in disbelief. Lady Milui simply giggled, and he turned to face her.

                “So- before we have to leave, what say you we have that dance you were promising me a few days ago?” She smiled at his invitation and laid a hand on his arm.

                “I would be honored.”

                And so it was that the gossips of Gondolin were, for once, ignorant of the ongoings of Erestor and Glorfindel. The ideal of the lord of Warfare settling down with the lord Penlod’s niece seemed much more interesting to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the ending seems a bit convoluted, but no matter how many times I wrote and re-wrote this chapter, I couldn't get the part where Erestor explains down satisfactorily. \\_(*-*)_/ Besides, I had to get that Midsummer Night's Dream ending, where Puck makes his apology, in there, and I thought Rog and Milui's bet worked quite well for it.   
> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm, I wonder what's going to happen to Fin. Beta'd by yours truly, so if you find any mistakes (or just want to comment), let me know!


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